


Home to Rhododendrons

by Dedicate Kiwicrocus (cranky__crocus)



Series: SMACKDOWN '11 Round Two - Team Discipline [4]
Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/F, Goldenlake, smackdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranky__crocus/pseuds/Dedicate%20Kiwicrocus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you remember the rhododendrons…?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home to Rhododendrons

**Author's Note:**

> Written right before SMACKDOWN (using the same prompt table), for Goldenlake: fiefgoldenlake.proboards.com

            Lark closed her bedroom door, safe in the knowledge that her charges were at meditation lesson and would not require her attention. She clutched a letter to her chest and imagined an auburn-haired head in its place. She sprawled over her bed, feet dangling off the end, and kissed the wax seal of Discipline Cottage.

            “Rosethorn,” she breathed through her smile. She knew her hopes could be dashed in a moment, immediately upon opening it, but for this moment she couldn’t stem the tide of her excitement. She felt as she had as an adolescent, when she had received her first wink from one of the older acrobats in the troupe.

            Lark broke the seal, unfolded the letter, and read:

 

 _Lark,_ (she laughed; that was Rosethorn: no pretences or endearments, just straight to the body)

 

            _The candle stub is dwindling and this bedroll is not comfortable without you. I’d have you warm it first, I hope you know._ (Lark chuckled—it would not have been the first time.) _Evvy is snoring beside me. She’s precious when she sleeps. But when you meet her, you are forbidden to pass on that knowledge: she’s under the impression that I think she’s a nettle and that is to continue until she is at least halfway through adolescence._ (Lark grinned at Rosie and her adorable prickles; she wasn’t about pass _that_ along, either.)

 

            _The boy has found another to tumble with, as you’d say; I couldn’t tell the gender. You may say you’ve won, but my wager is still on the table—I think he runs my way. I’ve seen the way he looked at the kitchen boys and was hard pressed to decipher which set of buns he was ogling._ (Lark laughed until she wiped a tear from her cheek. Rosethorn was so _sure_ he would grow into an egalitarian lover; Lark thought he was a straight shot like Crane.)

_Oh, how_ clever _he thinks he is, arranging the plants in the most soundproof arrangement. Youth, always thinking they’re the first. Do you remember the rhododendrons…?_ (Lark flushed as she recalled the incident of the rhododendrons by the sea, in that noble family’s back garden. They had visited to strengthen the spells in the landscaping and interior decorations, and grown distracted by each other during their midday meal break.) _The bedroll seems even emptier now, without you. Damn distance. I’ve blocked the plants’ pleasure at Briar’s antics, but it’s only dulled; the hair on my arms is rising._ Damn _distance!_

_I should never have listened to you when you insisted on filling my head with stories—and the idea that ‘oh isn’t_ travelling _just the best idea for the pair of you?’ I shouldn’t have listened to you at all. If I hadn’t, I would be tucked in your bed with my head in your lap, decidedly_ ignoring _you and your stroking fingers. You could yammer on about a marketplace south of the Pebbled Sea and I’d just sit there, watching your lips move, never minding the words they formed…_ (Lark decided she would have liked that, though she feared her lips would not be set on speaking if she had Rosie in her bed now.)

_I’m making light. I’m sure you know that—you’ve always been impeccable with your ability to interpret font._ (Lark had guessed. Rosie always had immaculate writing—Lightsbridge would do that to anyone save Crane, seemingly—but it grew tighter, shorter, and more cramped when she was concerned or anxious. It wasn’t difficult for Lark to tell that was very much the case now.) _Something here is changing, Lark. There are more Yanjingyi soldiers here than I could see necessitated by border-guarding, trade, or anything ceremonial. I catch whispers, sometimes, when the trees direct the winds to me. Briar can feel it too; he told me yesterday he thought he saw a mage soldier. They’re usually worth too much to send into another country for any purpose save_ (Lark saw an extra space here, perhaps Rosethorn’s subconscious adding space for a sense of distance) _war_. (She forgot to breathe.)

 

            _I feel helpless; you know how I detest that. We were supposed to head home today. I’m so sorry, Lark, I know that I can’t—not when I feel trouble stirring. I have to think there must be something I can do to help. We reach the city tomorrow. Perhaps I can at least strengthen medications, fortify defences, do_ something _…_

_I am selfish for wishing you here. I am selfish for wishing to be home with you. I am a bird with broken wings here, Lark, but I must_ try _or my vows are all for naught._ (“Oh I know, Rosie, how I know! I am a bird with _no_ wings for I am here and cannot fly to you.”) _I’m needed here, however useless I may be in the face of an Emperor’s war. I pray there is something for me to do, some way for me to help._ (Rosethorn was not one to ramble or repeat herself; the fact that she was doing both told Lark how upset the woman was. It pained her to continue reading.)

 

            (Lark swallowed to see the last lines: they were uneven and overlapping, awkward and nearly messy. The candle had gone out.) _Candle out. I can’t come home, Lark. I miss you. I love you. I love you again. In my thoughts always._ (“As you are in mine, my love, as you are in mine. I love you, I miss you; stay alive that I might kiss you…” Lark altered the an kissing rhyme she knew from youth and kissed the signature, too.)

_~~Rosethorn~~ Rosie_

            Lark was torn between tears at the message and a smile at the signature. In the end the smile only added weight to the tears. She was careful not to cry on the letter itself, for that was too precious.

            When her breathing had slowed and her tears had begun to dry, Lark retrieved a parchment and quill from her bed-side table. She pressed the parchment to a chalk slate for support and wrote her response, short so she could send it immediately.

 

 

_Dearest Rosethorn,_

_You come back alive and in one piece or I’ll kill you myself. I am not finished with you and rhododendron nights by the sea. I send you my own wings, for you need them more than I, and they wish only for delivery to you anyway. You’re not helpless: you’re the bravest, strongest, most powerful and important woman in the world—and_ don’t _go telling me I’m biased! I write truth, you just accept it._

_Come home and ignore me as fast as you can, when you have helped as much as you are able. Bring Briar and Evvy home safe; I know you can. I miss you. I love you once and again._

_Lark_

_(I stick by my wager: Briar is a woman-lover like me. Fret not, my Rosie, for we’ve three other children to potentially deliver us with sons-in-marriage we can’t stand but must—unless I’m right about Daja. Do come home so you may tease me in person about how_ ridiculous _it is for me to believe I possess an intuition for such things.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! (:


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